


Golden Hour

by WarriorBeeoftheSea



Series: Carry On Countdown 2019 [9]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), DEC 03 - Pattern, M/M, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21652984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarriorBeeoftheSea/pseuds/WarriorBeeoftheSea
Summary: After...
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Countdown 2019 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557757
Comments: 2
Kudos: 102
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2019





	Golden Hour

The sun is casting long shadows across the room. It must be late in the afternoon. _Golden hour_. I’m not sure how long we’ve been like this.

Simon has his face buried in a pillow, and aside from a light sheen of sweat and a sheet draped over his glorious arse, he’s starkers. (I am too, or near enough. I’m wearing his jumper.)

Honestly, I wasn’t sure we’d ever make it here.

I prop myself up on an elbow and drag a finger lazily across his back, following the lines of light and shadows dancing over his skin. The light filters in through a canopy of leaves; I can tell when the breeze rustles the shadows on Simon’s skin. A pattern of light and dark shimmering gold.

I rub my palm between his shoulder blades, where his wings connect to his body. They’re spelled tight; I normally don’t get to touch him here. I lean over and kiss his skin.

“Mmm.” His tail flicks lazily. It’s the only way I know he’s still at least a little bit awake.

I start tracing words into his back.

_I love you. I missed you. I need you._

“That tickles.”

_I’m yours._

“Sorry.”

_I’d cross any line for you._

“What are you writing?”

I smirk, even though he can’t see me. “Oh, just _Baz Pitch was here and he’s an impressive shag_.” (And then I really do trace that against his skin. I like to think it’s true.)

He squirms under my hand and laughs into the pillow. “He’ll do, I suppose.”

I lay back down next to him and trace meaningless lines up and down his skin.

“Baz?”

“Hm?”

“I’m glad we did this.”

“Mmm.” I’m starting to fall asleep. “Me too.”

_I love you._


End file.
